“It hurts… I can’t stand up straight,” she cried softly.
Daniel lifted Oliver with one arm and helped Emma into a chair with the other.
“Let me see your back.”
She hesitated… then lifted her shirt.
His breath caught.
Deep red marks cut across her shoulders. Her small spine strained, swollen from hours of pressure.
This wasn’t discipline.
This was abuse.
“Did she do this to you?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
Emma nodded.
“She said it helps me clean while I carry him.”
His hands trembled.
“How long has this been happening?”
“…All week.”
Daniel placed Oliver safely in his playpen… then turned toward the stairs.
